When the Self descends
to the self..
Mind contractions obscure
a free and open identity
our attention is needed..
Not logic laced in more worry
but a recognition of vastness
no..of infinity
of the Self which we
seemingly left behind..
Thus we deplete and dissolve
a wave of worry
in an ocean of
newfound clarity...

There is an equality
to be observed in
what seem as the
segments of life..
All are appearances
in the present moment..
(Really not a moment
but Now outside of time..)
Work and play are
simply modifications of
Now
into seeming forms:
one form or another
but the pleasure and
the truth come
from the discovery
that the same Field or
Now
underlies and
composes all...

Life is full of appearances
the fullness of life
new ones arrive as we
awaken each morning..
New appearances
seem to form and color
something within..which
always remains..
The remaining something
is not a thing..it is
perhaps somewhat..
Our minds draw a blank
in looking for said somewhat..
So..for now
let's let somewhat alone..
But be wary that
somewhat may appear
as a thing after all...!

Thought for the day....... “I have one major rule: Everybody is right. More specifically, everybody — including me — has some important pieces of truth, and all of those pieces need to be honored, cherished, and included in a more gracious, spacious, and compassionate embrace.” Ken Wilbur

*pieces of truth
colorations of Truth..
Yes..honor these
as fragments but
much more important
recognize the equality:
everybody's true identity
as the Embrace
as Truth...

appear discretely
but seem to grasp us
by the throat
insisting they are
most fleeting
and simply point
to the thing
to which they
point..
What is that thing..?
it seems as
something between
something dancing
and shouting:
don't pin me down...!

There is the belief
(Standing for centuries)
Of those colors seeming
To appear in vistas found
In this and that place..
In this season..perhaps
We might Recognize
Real joy comes from
Dissolving the distances
And simply allowing
The rise of the colors
In our Openness...

This very small image element
is a projection of the computer..
Seeming objects are projected by
let's say: a subjective computer..
Resolution in variation
clouds and clarifies..
These apparent visions of science
assist in our meditations..
Consciousness as the computer
comes first
initiating multitudes of pixel dances..
RedGreenBlue express temporarily
an image made from the computer's
infinite pixel possibilities..
Consciousness contains our life pixels
projecting our low resolution dreams
and higher resolution wakefulness..
Why important..?
Our seeing is beginning to upstage
our illusory focus on those pixels...

art provides a glimpse
of eternal reality
pointing to our identity
an identity that seemed hidden
until an artpiece parts the curtain..
and the curtain itself now glows
as it has always glowed behind
our curtained perceptive...

Oasis

*After April rains
the desert dryness
apparent this spring
has unfolded
in green expression..
This new coloration
a multiplicity
of leaf and bird
coloring bleak dryness
as mind and world
emerging in Spring...

Juxtaposed we find
metaphorical possibilities
on the 'oft heard word
"Great.."
in  recent discourse..

The funereal gathering
marked with precision
and heartening oratory
celebrated a life representing
a centered consensus..
claiming a greatness
past and present..
but with darkness lapping
in places too close..

The golf outing
with creditable swing
stands circumferential
representing "deplorables" who
find the center not their own..
yet..a clubbing of truth
and a rough savaging
of human interchange
seem as arousal..

Arousal for rejection of
both sides of this
juxtaposition:
Are we witnessing the
birthing of what is "Great"
all anew...?

Luke Michael is his name...
A milestone in a life we observe
now edging on reason's time..
That time in which most seem
to forever engage and remain..
But for now
he enjoys with delight
a Presence
and he lives in that place
to which we all long to return..
Today in play and celebration  
I discover that from this place
we have never departed...

Charley Harper
is my example..
His animal forms are
minimal and simplistic..
(you can google his name..!)

Charley was a forerunner of
consciousness-only awakening
which is today offered as a
paradigm of hope..

Each life form
bird animal insect tree
expresses and abides
in something more..

Essence is consciousness
manifesting within itself
a plethora of forms with
geometric brushstrokes..

This artist's stroke finds
our commonality in beauty
the recognition for which
each of us longs...

"I"
What do we mean when we repeat
this most common of words..?
Most of us would say
a multiplicity of things
many names of occupations
locations and the resume
most recently written..

This objectified I
accumulates memories
pleased with the good
fearing the bad
and so it goes over our years..
There are expressions of
Thank You
for material abundance
and for a good name..

This I is personal and close
but if we admit..not quite
the I we long to be..
And on occasion
a question asserts:
How might I be truly
Happy..?
Recognizing that I
good teachers will say
would mean that this
would be truly a
Happy Thanksgiving...!

Separation is the deceiver

Who seems innocent because

After all..things seem different

And bounded and special..

A suggestion otherwise seems

To mug common sense..but that

Nagging lack seems to

Hang on..and we overturn many of

Those separate things..for relief..

The deceiver is elated and celebrates

Each new lease on life..

Lo..the search continues in many

Villages..large and small..for that

Which has never been lost...

change seems a beaconing in time
pleading a new search and goal..
to create a new chapter
amplifying the story we know
to which we cling..
yet real change
does not become.. but
is a startling recognition
of that in which
seeming change asserts..
that.. we are..
where freedom resides...

Knowing for the first time
means becoming aware
that there really is
no first or next time..
It means realizing
time has asserted itself
as a fencing
with barbed-wire barbs
claiming their sequence
marking our surrender
of freedom..
As time barbs dissolve
in our space of being
we know with joy
for the first and all time...

is the story we all share
as it repeats 10000 stories:
including yours and mine..
each of us awaits a discovery
that our story was written
long ago..we of the 10000
are searching simply..for the
happiness we once knew..
the search ever widens to the
mountains and seas for the
buried treasure we intuit lies near..
there are chapters of our story
of joyful findings which end
with a new chapter re-joining
the search..then just sometimes
desperation delivers..as our story
dissolves in the happiness we seek..!
and the prodigal is home...

is an overtone of
the quotidian..the everyday
the mundane..as is said
"same old same old.."
seemingly there is belief
of an inequality
showing up on occasion
and labeled as exciting or
not so exciting..
yet..
the root of our boredom
as with our fears and angst
is the concealed culprit:
an unquestioned belief
in a life lived in separation...

These words must point
and must burn..
Burning in their origin
to which they now face..
Thus revealing the light
of Aware I am..
These words are short lived
having risen as mind
in their original vastness..
Words shine in our knowing
the flames they become..
Rising and burning
serving our Joy...

Here/Now
not a place or moment
but infinite/eternal..
Better known perhaps
as simply: I am..
I am..rises
as subject/object:
the Big Bang
our Awakening
to the morning sun...

gently
and find yourself
in a dream..

going with
the flow..
effortlessly..
paddles  stowed
singing of a dream..
then of a sudden
singing As a dream..

recognizing now
boat and paddles
stream and you
are the dream..

Who is dreaming...?

On Monday
the Event..
The sun teaches
a lesson on veiling..
Absence asserts
but on the edges
(wear appropriate glasses..!)
the sunlight is recognized..
The light of consciousness
asserts and promises..
The moon veil
poses as our dark patches
in life in this moment
but the patches dissolve
in bright sunlight
which was missing
only from our
eclipsed perspective...

This is the reality
we actually know..
Appearance in and of
Awareness..
The objective world
is nothing more..
Seemingly
a hidden secret...

This seems long ago
But not so long I guess..
There was a man
Of rugged countenance
And flowing hair
Seated at roadside
Relaxed in his being
At the beginning of
My ascent on a
Sunny park trail..
No word was spoken
Yet more than words
Were the eyes
Making brief contact..
A gaze really
A knowing gaze
Not to be forgotten
After these years...

How
Is this imperative
Possible in our very
Conventional lives..?
It likely is
All about Recognition..
Recognition that Love
Is more than personal
More than relating..
Is the make-up of
Each one of us
And all that is..
Including that one we
Separated out as
Our enemy...

As dawn arrives and sleep departs
THERE in the new day arises
as the Here of sleep seems to dissolve..
The real world we knew yesterday
THERE it is once more..
Thus the default pattern of our days
asserts its unquestioned truth..
What is THERE to prompt a question
on whether the question is settled..?
Perhaps it is that ancient trickster death..
Death in innumerable disguises
in this moment or the next..
Death seen as coming and going
a temporary coloring of something..
Hence the question of that something..
Something we seem to have always known
but apparently forgotten in all those days
of locating ourselves in that insistent
THERE...

Walking lightly
into the setting sun's
spreading rays
between and between..
her form slowly
submerged in darkness..
the details of sunlight
yield now to the
no-boundary darkness
to a wholeness
recognized
where memories of detail
revealed by the light
now dance many dances
in the dark...

What is so appealing..?
It seems this glass
covers it All
the landscape entire..
Those artificial boundaries
are superimposed thought
with the message:
nothing left out
nothing unimportant..
Boundaries seem to fade
announcing their departure
and separation's
myth...

from a personal "i"
which occupies our days..
so many schedules and accounts
to be settled..
it has long been so
that our i seems stolen
by habits and chores..

one morning
we might float away
to observe from a distance..
an out-of-body excursion
in which our personal i
morphs as I..

solidity spreads and softens
and we find without effort
a new I..which all have
sought..lifelong..but
beneath habits and chores
are darkly concealed.

No-thing

Silence

Erase the words above..

What remains represents

The End of searching..

Although discussion may

Introduce a cloudy day...

A questioning arising
From the vicissitudes
Of life..the constant flux..
We seem as a ball
Bouncing from this locale
To that..desires pulling
To hoped satisfactions..
At long last..the mind asks
What or Why or When  
Opening our emptiness
Quieting the questions
Introducing ourselves to
A new Recognition...

The mind
as thought
is the naming
after  arrival
of an image
of our tree..

walking back
we realize there
is no tree..but a
series of brushstrokes
on the canvas of
our perceiving mind..

quietly and quickly
in an eye's blink
the mind's thought
names a tree
and 'lo.. we speak
of a tree..

A thought occurs
and then ends..but the mind
wishing to continue
searches for another
to consider and dismiss..
The mind not wishing
for you..Awareness..
to rest in that which
lies between...

there is a Sameness
in the many colorful
expressions of Grace..
within and as Grace come
the man on the donkey
the sounds of shouting
the voices of caution
and the quiet stones..
Grace as your Wholeness
expresses...

Conversations display variations seeming as

Splitting wholeness..prismatic they are..joyful

Prismatically..without attachment.. as

Wholeness appears as glorious variety..

However..there is the attachment thing..the golden calf

Hiding the whole..hatching rancor and stomach knots..

World history thus resuming in each conversation..

All of this seems so..until we kinda back away:

Prismatic joy and golden calf..a storied split..

Are still wholeness appearing as this and that..

A religion reflection..
Immersed as we are in
brambles and thickness
knowing well the trees of
cliched forest and trees..
Each tree quite alone..
But for this moment
let the cliche speak:
Please find a clearing
experience a Self removed
from clustered beliefs
about separate trees..
Make your Discovery
then return
to the trees..
Find them shining
as real Trees...

These days of
political and climate storms
seem to immerse us
in separation's persuasions..
Earth quaking and burning
awash in winds and waves..
Seeming to demand our
unending attention..
The Self seems distant
with confusion's coverings
which we need to untangle..
Untangle the storms from
the joy appearing in cracks..
Then to recognize that
there are only cracks...*

(Thanks, Leonard..)

Words constrict the silence
disturbing the peace
of unlimited tranquility..
Words float briefly
in an infinite tranquil sea..
Islands perhaps..floating.. and disappearing
and becoming once more the sea..
The tranquil sea gives birth to a plethora of
words and expressions..vocabularies dancing..
and fading..
Tranquility is that which we are
and which we are longing to know:
our present national lament...

This phrase seems worn..Joyce and Faulkner..perhaps a misnomer..
Consciousness doesn't flow..the streams are thoughts and perceptions..
these flow through consciousness which remains steady and still..
Yet..let's reconsider..thought and perception are made of..yes..
consciousness..it seems we have found waves in the ocean..waves
of thinking and perceiving..waves in an ocean of stillness..Yet..
consciousness seems distracted by its waves within..a seeming of
separation and limitation..exclaiming: I am a stream..until..
please return to the beginning...

the story of epiphany
in Christian lore casts the
dilemma of Herod pained
by intense insecurity..

with men from the East
he deceitfully seeks help
in his search to end
unrelenting unease..

he lives in separation
believing peace and ease
must be located somewhere
in his kingdom of places..

this fellow sufferer
like most in our culture
search in geography to
calm throbbing desires..

to find..or not..that the
satisfaction we seek is
available immediately when
we call off our search...

The large question mark
points to a wish
a longing to find
our real Identity..
Not the identity we found
in childhood years
which lingers for most..
In years as children
we discover a self
separated and ready
for a life
with promise and color..

When this life sours
when we intuit
another identity
seemingly out of reach
our path of discovery
need be continued..
Teachers and guides
are there for us
to pursue and search
for the Identity
we somehow know
is made of a
peace and happiness
not satisfied by worn
childhood knowing..

A teacher's message
if heard correctly
will point to our
new Identity and
will also caution
against a pedestal
for the teacher
with beliefs to anchor..
Almost home..
Waiting for that
morning resonance...

The poem
is formed within
and made of ourself..
It is the waveform rising
in this moment from the
infinite potential resting
in each of us..
The poem rises and colors
the moment and then dissolves
as a wave into the sea..
The remnants which remain
inscribed on a page
is for readers who follow
bringing new waves
rising and coloring
and resting once more...

this imagined side
claims a reality its own..
the claim comes from  
searching for that
which persists as Light..

searching dark places
of fear and desire
and in resistance to a
quiet Call..

as the search extends
perhaps with pause for
a dark night of the soul
it may at last be recognized:

the Call has persisted in all
my days..as my tears
dissolve a search now
ending...

Made in the image
The Book says..
Then arises our
Dilemma of conditioning:
We look for God in
Our body-image..
And our mind exclaims:
Why not..? What's next..?
But of conditioning beware..!
The Book also says: I Am
With nothing beside..
Bringing shock and awakening:
Our body-image dances
Within and As
I am...

the old ones
cannot hold new wine
causing them
to split and crumble..
the new ones
are fresh models
prodding for recognition
midst the crumbling..

we seek explanations for
revolutionary changes which
surprise and frighten..
religion and science
and politics
struggle to place
new thought and findings
into old wineskins..

and the shocking news
is that each one of us carries
the new wineskin in
our own experience:
recognizing now the
unity and peace
of inside and out..
and more shocking:
this intimate wineskin
never has been old..

Trees are the permanent
the eternal
which we forget
in our hastiness..
our identity lost
the objects of life
stand forth claiming
special reverence..
until once more
the tree experience
states our permanence
in which our lives
display in passing..
the silent tree
brings us home and
reintroduces ourself
to ourself...
~CC

Each of us creates
that which appears..
This truth startles
yet attracts our daring..
Each longs to be free
of Newton's hold
but such freedom is
named as folly..
So we remain
waiting for grace
to bless our daring...